The End of Blue

Signaled by sudden onset of unrelenting pain

Sunday was our 24th wedding anniversary and we decided to take Blue up to Reservoir Falls, where he was able to swim. It turned out to be his last adventure. He was diagnosed with a rare form of testicular cancer 15 months ago, and surgery was not a viable option because he was nearing the end of a normal lifespan, and the risks outweighed the benefits.

Monday started out like any other day in this recent stretch — it was actually a beautiful day, but in the evening, just as I was about to turn in, Blue started crying and he wouldn’t stop. It was the most heartrending sound, and it became crystal clear that his cancer was finally rearing its ugliest head. I felt so helpless and began to question my decision to postpone the inevitable for another week.

After what seemed like an eternity, Blue roused himself and made for the door. He made it outside, where he threw up a little bit, and then he made it back indoors and laid down and seemed to be calmer. But then a few hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, he started again.

I walked him out front around through the two gates — we had disassembled the ramp — and he very hesitantly and stubbornly followed me on these new uncharted paths. We made it out into the field. I had a big flashlight in my hand. I was wearing my big black oversized terry cloth bathrobe and my giant down puff camp boots, looking like the Grim Reaper if I say so myself.

He wandered around and fell. I managed to stand him up again and he just stood there for a long time. I wanted to get him back in the house, but I realized that I needed to wait for him. So I took a breath, turned off the flashlight, and looked up and saw the biggest, starriest sky. The deepest black and the brightest twinkling stars. It seemed like an infinity opened up above us.

It took two or three more ten-yard walks and long pauses before we got to the side gate. I started fumbling with the latch and I lost the lantern, and I became a little flustered when I turned to bring Blue through, and he wasn’t there anymore. I turned the other direction and there he was, standing at the top of the steps that he couldn’t navigate for the last weeks, looking at me like what’s keeping you.

That’s Blue in a nutshell. He had a will, but he was also stubborn — if you tried to force him to do anything he would resist you. But if you let him decide, he was unstoppable. I had actually used this knowledge a few months ago when, after months of never going, he wanted to go for a ride with us in the car, like in the old days. The reason he stopped going was he was afraid of the ramp. So I got up in the car with Blaze and left the ramp in place and ignored Blue and made it look fun, what we were doing. And sure enough he decided to come up the ramp on his own, and he did.

I will never forget seeing him standing at the top of the steps Monday night in the moonlight. It was 2:30 am and 40F.

Veronica was awakened near dawn by him crying again, and we decided that it was time. Our vet has a policy where if you phone in before 8 AM on a day that she’s working, you can have a chance at getting the slot they always save for emergencies. So I left a message a little after 7 AM. They called back later and said that we could bring him at 3 PM.

I really don’t have any words to tell you the rest, so I’ll let the pictures tell the story.

While preparing this post and looking at these photos, I noticed something miraculous in the last one. At first, I thought it was a speck of dirt, but I zoomed in and it was a bird ascending above Blue’s final resting place.

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